


Breathe

by pensgarth_deactivated



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Claustrophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensgarth_deactivated/pseuds/pensgarth_deactivated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt at <a href="http://arthur-whumping.livejournal.com">arthur-whumping</a> on LJ: </p><p>   <i>Set after S4. A hunt has gone terribly wrong, leaving Arthur and Merlin separated from the other knights and caught in a small hole with no way out. Everything is ok, they just need to wait for a help, but Arthur has extreme claustrophobia and waiting is absolutely not an option. As the result he has a huge panic attack and almost faints, while Merlin tries to help him through it. Please show me vulnerable Arthur and strong/helpful Merlin.</i></p><p> There is less of the helpful/strong Merlin than I originally planned (and I completely forgot about the after S4 setting), but I hope OP enjoys it anyway!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. And there are probably many, because I didn't do a very thorough read through when I'd finished writing. Oops.

“Are you okay?”  
  
Arthur could hear the voice – Merlin’s voice – but he couldn’t _hear_ it. He couldn’t hear it over the sound of his pulse in his ears, or his ragged breathing bouncing off the walls, water soaking into his clothes, freezing his legs and burning his throat.  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
He couldn’t hear it over the sound of the walls moving, coming closer and closer until they were crushing him, squeezing the life out of him. He could feel them getting closer now, the water making his fingers slippery as he clawed at the stone and screamed for someone to get him out. For anyone to get him out before he died, please. Please, help me. Please–  
  
“ _Arthur!_ ”  
  
Arthur’s eyes flew open at the feeling of hands on his face. For a moment he couldn’t see anything but the walls – not the stone walls of the well this time, but earth crumbling around him, burying him alive instead. The earlier panic, momentarily stilled by the warm, dry hands, crashed over him again, and he kicked out with his legs, pushing himself into a corner and shutting his eyes against the images flashing in his mind.  
  
The hands were back, running over his cheeks and forehead, and he noted, distantly, that they really weren’t wet. They were dry, because they weren’t in a well and if he could just relax, just _get a grip_ on his emotions for one second, he would realise that there was no danger. Not this time.  
  
“Arthur, what’s wrong?” Merlin was kneeling in front of him, concern written all over his face as he lowered his hands to Arthur’s shoulders and shuffled closer, so he was crouched between Arthur’s legs.  
  
Arthur tried to take a breath, wanting to tell Merlin exactly what was wrong, but he couldn’t breathe. He _couldn’t_.  
  
Without meaning to, he clutched at his chest, backing away from Merlin again as he tried to force air into his lungs. His head was spinning and his stomach heaved violently, though nothing came up. He clawed at his throat, eyes wildly flicking around until Merlin put a hand on his chest.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Merlin asked, tears beginning to form in his eyes, hands tightening in the fabric of Arthur’s shirt. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.”  
  
“I can’t…breathe…” Arthur choked out, hand flying to his throat as it tightened again, legs trembling against the dry soil. “I can’t…”  
  
“Yes you can!” Merlin said, quiet but firm, though even now they both knew his magic couldn’t do anything. His hands settled on the sides of Arthur’s face, a gentle press of warm skin. “You can, Arthur.”  
  
Arthur tried to breathe. He tried to slow his racing heart, and loosen the muscles in his chest and just _breathe_ but he couldn’t. His vision blurred.  
  
“Can’t,” he choked out, hot tears running down his cheeks. “Can’t.”  
  
“Fuck,” Merlin muttered, pushing Arthur’s hair away from his forehead. “Arthur!” He was shouting and crying, and it just made Arthur chest tighten more. He tried to push Merlin away, tried to make more space as the walls crept closer, but his arms were too heavy. He fell back against the wall and slumped to the ground, head spinning. “Arthur!”  
  
Merlin was there again, blurry but definitely there. His hands were on Arthur’s chest, clenching in the material as he shook him. Arthur couldn’t find the strength to protest. He was going to die again.  
  
He was only distantly aware of Merlin’s lips on his own and Merlin’s breath in his lungs, forcing the rise and fall of his chest to slow slightly under Merlin’s hands and a moment later Merlin broke away, panting.  
  
“Arthur?” he breathed, crawling closer, lifting Arthur so that he was sitting against the wall of the hole again. “Arthur?”  
  
He couldn’t speak, his breathing still too erratic to force the words out, but he reached out his hand shakily. Merlin caught it and pressed it against his chest.  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Arthur!” he swore. “Don’t…don’t do that to me ever again!”  
  
Arthur tried to laugh - there were tear tracks on Merlin’s face, the idiot – but his throat was hurting as his chest was still too tight. He frowned.  
  
“Just breathe,” Merlin whispered, resting his forehead against Arthur’s. “Breathe, love. Please.”  
  
Arthur concentrated on the steady rise and fall of Merlin’s chest, and the warm breath on his cheek, until he was breathing in time with Merlin.  
  
“That was horrible,” he rasped, then coughed. Merlin laughed, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before reaching over to their bags for the waterskin. Arthur drank from it greedily, only leaving enough for one sip at the bottom when he handed it back to Merlin. Merlin snorted, muttering something about selfish princes, but shuffled closer anyway, pressing his nose against Arthur’s neck.  
  
“What happened?” he asked quietly, wary of the same thing happening again.  
  
“When I was younger I…I fell in a well. No-one realised for hours, and I was just…trapped there. I thought I was going to die.” His chest hitched at the end, his voice unbearably weak.  
  
“No, stop. Just breathe,” Merlin said, but Arthur shook his head. He wanted to go on.  
  
“Afterwards I kept having dreams about it. They were always the same; the walls closing in on me. I didn’t drown, I was crushed.” He started panicked again as he finished, tricking himself into thinking the walls were moving. He shrank back against the wall, chest hitching noticeably.  
  
“Shh,” Merlin soothed, running a hand through Arthur’s hair, scratching gently at the skin to calm him. “Breathe.”  
  
“It’s all…very well…you telling me…to breathe…Merlin,” Arthur huffed, but he was smiling slightly nonetheless. Merlin pressed their foreheads together again, hoping the same trick would work twice.  
  
“Shut up and breathe,” he murmured against Arthur’s lips.  
  
“I can’t breathe if you’re kissing me,” Arthur chuckled, settling his hands on Merlin’s waist, stopping him from pulling away.  
  
“Let me go then, if you don’t like it,” Merlin teased, shuffling closer.  
  
Arthur laughed. “No, you can stay. I like it. You have to keep me distracted until the others get here anyway if we don’t want the same thing to happen again.”  
  
Merlin smiled. “Yeah, okay. I think I can manage that.”


End file.
